


Genius Does not Preclude Idiocy

by Dazeventura6



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst and Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-18 19:43:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9400376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dazeventura6/pseuds/Dazeventura6
Summary: An explosion rocks 221B Baker Street.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scarletmanuka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletmanuka/gifts), [Susspencer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Susspencer/gifts).



     

               When the explosion rocked the flat, John Watson was busy debating the relative merits of laundry detergent in getting the various stains out of his clothes. Somehow, during the time he had known Sherlock, he had found that his clothes tended to accumulate stains from various sources, most common being blood. After a brisk internal debate, he finally picked one and finished the rest of his shopping, before heading out of the local Tesco’s.

Humming to himself happily and wondering if he could convince his favorite detective to spend the evening quietly at home, cuddling while watching some telly. They could really do with a quiet evening at home after the recent spate of cases, that had kept them busy for the past few weeks. Well, Sherlock would probably get bored again, soon, without any new cases but he could certainly use a break and some time to concentrate on his patients.

Musing happily on the possibilities of convincing Sherlock to cuddle with copious amounts of sex, John turned the corner to enter Baker Street and saw the street blocked with police tape and swarming with cops. John’s heart stopped, as he took in the scene frantically scanning the crowd for a familiar face. He knew, he just knew that Sherlock was at the centre of this mess. He just hoped that nothing had happened to the dark haired, pain in the arse who lived with him.

Finally, seeing a familiar constable standing at the edge of the tape, trying to move the crowd back, he pushed his way towards him and asked him what had happened. The constable was only too happy to tell him, that there had been an explosion of some sort in a flat down the street and let him through the line. Just hearing that there had been an explosion was enough to make the doctor’s heart clench with dread. He was sure, so sure that it had to be his flat. Quickly handing his bags to the constable, he hurried towards the flat hoping and praying that Sherlock was alright.

As he neared the flat, he could see the broken glass and wood lying in the street, debris from the explosion. But the thing that really caught his attention and nearly shattered his heart was the sight of Sherlock’s precious violin lying there, broken in the middle of the street. Heart pounding with dread he pushed his way frantically through the cops lining the street. He spotted an ambulance and headed straight for it hoping against hope that it was nothing too serious. He only found Mrs. Hudson being fussed over by the paramedic in the ambulance with an oxygen mask over her face. Tamping down his fears for the detective John approached her.

“Are you alright Mrs. Hudson?” He asked genuinely concerned about the older lady who was always so kind to them. The paramedic answered for her, telling him it was just smoke inhalation and she would be fine. He however wouldn’t let his patient remove the mask much to Mrs. Hudson’s annoyance and shooed John away before he could ask her anything about Sherlock.

Determined to find out for himself, John walked through the doors of 221B to see the devastation caused by the explosion. The first thing he heard as he entered was the voice of their good friend DI Lestrade.

“For God’s sake Sherlock SIT DOWN, and let the nice medic take a look at you.” Lestrade was saying clearly at the end of his patience.

       Hearing that the doctor felt something unclench in his chest and he took a deep breath, since he knew that he would now have a fight on his hands to convince the stubborn man to allow him to take care of him. Sighing internally, he walked forward to see Sherlock wrapped in a shock blanket as he prodded something lying on the still smouldering remains of their kitchen with his foot, muttering to himself “Too much peroxide.”

       Shaking his head at the ridiculousness of the man he loved and suppressing a smile John walked up to Sherlock and took his elbow, gently tugging him away from the remains of the kitchen towards the entrance to the flat, receiving a grateful slightly bemused look from Lestrade for his efforts and an annoyed one from Sherlock which softened as the detective noted the remnants of stress and concern on John’s face.

“What happened Sherlock? Are you alright?” John asked even as he continued to tug his flatmate down the stairs.

“I’m fine…I’m fine John. I was in the sitting room when the peroxide must have leaked and boom. Just a few scratches. I’m fine.” Sherlock said brushing away John’s hands as he tried to shine a torch, he’d borrowed from one of the paramedics into the detective’s eyes.

“So, it was one of your bloody experiments then. Sherlock how many times have I told you not to experiment in the kitchen? Now where are we going to stay? The flat is a wreck. Even Mrs. Hudson is going to have to find someplace to stay till the place is fixed.” John ranted at the younger man. Pushing the detective back down as he tried to get up from his spot on the stairs John thanked the paramedic for his first aid kit and began dabbing antiseptic on the cuts on Sherlock’s face.

“Ow! John, I’m not actually made of stone you know.”

“Well,  you wouldn’t know it with the way you act. God, Sherlock you scared me. I saw your violin broken in the street and feared the worst for a moment.”

Sherlock’s gaze softened. “I’m fine John. You can see I’m fine.”

“Yes, well. You are going to sit down and let me have a proper look at you, so we know there’s no internal injuries to worry about. And no arguments.” John stated with a determined expression on his face.

“Don’t be an idiot Sherlock, listen to the man. He is a doctor after all.” Came Mycroft’s voice from behind John. John sighed. There would be no talking to Sherlock now, somehow being around Mycroft always brought out the worst in his partner.

“Oh and you can both stay at my place while they are repairing the flat. Mrs. Hudson is welcome too of course. Experiment gone wrong was it?” Mycroft continued appearing in the hallway looking dapper as ever in his suit and carrying an umbrella as usual.

Before Sherlock could open his mouth and antagonise his brother further, John answered for them both.

“Yeah, he was saying something about peroxide leaking. Anyway it will probably be a month at least before they can fix the place up, if Mrs. Hudson will have us back at all. We couldn’t impose on you for that long Mycroft. Thank you for the offer though. We’ll just find a hotel for the night and look for a place in the morning. Come on Sherlock.” He said grabbing Sherlock by the elbow and dragging him away as fast as he could.

        As they left Baker Street Sherlock started chuckling, thinking about the startled look on his brother’s face and soon John joined him feeling a little giddy with relief and leftover adrenalin. And laughing together they walked away.

**Author's Note:**

> My first attempt at humour...forgive me if it falls flat...Oh well...all I can say is I tried...lol


End file.
